


The Third Son

by errichii



Series: ET MAGNAM DIERUM (and days of) [1]
Category: Evillious Chronicles
Genre: (in later chapters :c ), Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Time Travel, Angst and Tragedy, Epic, Eventual Happy Ending, Eye Trauma, F/F, F/M, Heroes to Villains, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Multi, Other, Relationship(s)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-10-22
Updated: 2017-10-22
Packaged: 2019-01-21 07:34:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,615
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12452652
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/errichii/pseuds/errichii
Summary: He bears the blood of the moon and stars. [AU, epic-attempt, Seth-centric, multi-chapter]





	1. the idyllic life

His tiny, fragile heart beats in fear and sadness.

A child that has only seen four years of his life has every reason to be afraid. Had he been enrolled in the village's school, he would've cried at being left alone there by his parents for the very first time. Had his mother not lulled him to sleep before he goes to sleep, he would've been afraid of the dark. If there should be a time where he wouldn't be able to see his parents for a day, he would've cried for them.

All these three things; solitude, the darkness and being separated from his parents as he ran into the woods, made him far more fearful than anyone could ever imagine.

The fireplace and his mother's humming would warm his heart and calm his mind, but he would never again hear the lilting voice of his mother again. No warmth can ever be similar to his family home in Elphegort, and his eyes welled up with tears as he tried to wipe his eyes vainly with his sleeves. His heart was pounding, his face felt hot and flushed, and his feet were running, stepping on the grass and the soil of the forest of Held.

In this way, he would never experience the love of his brave father and his gentle mother ever again.

* * *

 

_The son of the moon and the star runs in the night, and goes to where neither of them can reach him._

* * *

 

 **The Third Son**  
a Seth Twiright fanfiction

* * *

 

 _"When Adam had lived one hundred and thirty years, he became the father of a son in his own likeness, according to his image, and named him Seth."_  
-Genesis 5:3, The Bible

* * *

 

Chapter 1  
the idyllic life

_THREE DAYS AGO_

"Mom! Again?!" Seth complained.

"Don't complain!" his mother, Eve sighed. "We have a lot of these growing at the back, and it's really healthy for you if you eat them!"

The boy merely pouted.  _"If_  I eat them, you know..."

Deep in the woods, there was a quaint cottage that nestled itself in the midst of abundant greenery and the protection of a god who vouches for the bloom of life. When rain falls in these woods, the air is cool, and when the sun shines in the summer, the trees quietly rejoice in receiving the light in which they can grow. There is abundance and life in the forest of Held, and this was where the Moonlit family, a family of three, resided. The husband, a woodcutter; the wife, a housewife; the son, aged 4, received no formal education but learns in his own precocious way.

It was a fine morning; the sun was up at 7, and it did not scorch the surface of the earth, but warmed it instead like a mother's smile. Dewdrops patiently wait for each turn to fall from the tips of the leaves, and the birds never ceased to chirp to herald a new day. The ground was wet from the rain from the day before, and so was the grass, and the bricks that made up the cottage's well would feel damp to the touch.

In this cottage, where it only had a small window, two rooms, a few drawers, an antique table lamp and a large dining table fit for a family, the son complains. His mother, once known as the greatest witch of her time, has served vegetables for breakfast again. Vegetables, vegetables, vegetables. It wouldn't hurt to have variety, but the problem was that Eve Moonlit, powerful and bright as she was, had a penchant for preferring spring onions.

That was all she ever planted at the back of the house, asides from herbs, and her son, Seth, was growing sick of it, like most children his age. Despite how enchanting and magical the world he lives in is, it still doesn't alleviate any form of disgust towards the accursed leafy greens.

"No, you're not getting out of this one!" the teal-haired woman tutted, raising her pointer finger in the air so as to chastise her young son. "I did my best to make it interesting this time! Spring onion pancakes; you won't know until you try!"

That only earned another pout, followed by an awkward silence from both mother and son. The ticking of the second hand does its job ticking patiently.

"...Really?" Seth asked, folding his arms.

"Really!" Eve beamed, cutting a portion of her food as she decided to prove to her son that it does taste way different from her other breakfasts. She popped one forkful in her mouth, and almost immediately, humming sounds of satisfaction could be heard from her, approving the taste of her own cooking. She munches a bit, and she peers over at Seth, who was, as she expected, starting to look a little...convinced.

"...Really, really?" he asked again, looking at his plate.

She merely kept munching, exaggerating how tasty her food is.

Being 4 and impressionable, it was no wonder that Seth ended up giving into the friendliest of peer pressure, and he hesitantly found himself cutting a small forkful of his spring onion pancake. It looked back at him, with the sauce and the garnish, and he told himself to be brave and open minded to new foods.

He had to, but really, it was so hard.

Before he could even protest more to himself, he ate the forkful, and much to his surprise, his breakfast was not half bad. Rather, it tasted very good, and he also realized that he had never eaten this before in his life. As he beamed at his mother, he pointed at his food with his fork excitedly.

"What's this?" Seth asked animatedly. "Really tasty, mom!"

Eve winked in triumph. "Ah,  _now_  you say it's tasty?"

"What is iiit?" he insisted, taking another bite.

"Stir-fried pancakes, with spring onions!" she proudly promoted, as she put another pancake on Seth's plate. "I haven't made this in a long time, and because your father went to town to get some flour, we'll be having a good breakfast this morning!"

"Dad always sleeps in," Seth stubbornly complained, eating more. "Why does he always come back late? Isn't it scary outside when it's dark?"

At that, Eve looked worried. "That's true...but he always works very late to get more wood...Maybe that's also why he complains about shoulder pains..."

"If his shoulders hurt, won't it be painful if he carries wood?!" came the shocked question. Immediately, a wave of concern crossed the young boy's face, and before Eve could reassure him, the aforementioned woodcutter came out from the bedroom, yawning.

"Adam!" cried out Eve, rushing over to her husband in light of the conversation that she had with her son. "Do your shoulders still hurt? You really should start coming back early; too much work will...!"

The long-suffering husband smiled over at his wife and son, even going so far as to laugh a little in hopes that it would ease their concerns. "It's nothing to be concerned about! Just a bit of rest and the pain goes away, I promise."

"It doesn't work like that," Seth insisted, finishing his food as he narrowed his eyes at Adam.

"E-Eh..." Adam nervously said, half-berating himself mentally for not being able to catch his son's ever-sharp tongue and mind. "I-It really is okay, Seth! Eve, you tell him-"

What Adam received were merely disbelieving glares from both Eve and Seth, and he knew that he had lost.

...Well, he was never a good liar anyways.

"I give up," he surrendered, raising his hands in the air, and both mother and son shared triumphant smiles. They grinned to each other from ear to ear, and Seth hopped down from his chair after drinking some water to tug onto his father's shirt.

"Off day, off day!"

"Take a day off, dear!" Eve cheered on.

"Not today, unfortunately," Adam scratched the back of his head before taking a seat on the breakfast table as Eve put two more pancakes on his plate, accompanied with his morning coffee. "I have to go to town today."

"Town?" Seth asked curiously. "Again?"

"It's where he gets the news for the week," Eve smiled, ruffling her son's head. "You'll be getting books for Seth too, right, dear?"

Adam nodded and smiled. "Of course. If I remember correctly, Seth's only ever been to town twice, right...?"

"Town's stupid," Seth irritably said, turning his head away from his parents as he stood next to his chair.

"Seth!" Eve chided.

"It's true!" he insisted. "Dad got robbed with a weighing scale in the market!"

 _"Cheated,"_  his mother corrected, giggling.

"Cheated!"

"I admit that I'm still attached to electronic balances..." Adam laughed, recalling the incident clearly. An unbalanced weighing scale cost him a hefty sum for a loaf of bread one horrid afternoon in Calgaround, and while Eve couldn't blame him for not knowing, Seth ended up feeling rather cheated himself.

"Alright, you two!" Eve laughed, retying her apron strings. "To prevent that from happening, why don't we all go to town together? We'll have so much fun; it'll be a family trip from the forest to the market! How about it?" she grinned, thinking to herself that it was a mighty fine idea.

At that, going to town suddenly became a very tempting prospect to Seth, because curiosity ate away at him almost immediately. From the two times where he ever went to town, it was filled with too many people, too many shops and a lot of children like him. As exciting as the town was to him with its cobblestone roads, bakers baking pastries and bread, and far too much variety all around, it didn't give him much room, much less have fun. Every new place is a wonder to him as a young child, but there are also dangers lurking about, hence, his parents' basic teachings.

Don't trust strangers.

Don't go running about alone.

Always hold our hands.

Don't accept gifts from strangers.

Common teachings became code and law. Going to town seemed like a test to Seth, and with his parents smiling at him in agreement over the entire escapade, he ended up thinking quietly to himself. They would all be going as a family to the town that his father frequents, and to the town where he only set foot on thrice.

It'll surely be fun, but he still thinks that the town's stupid either way.

"How about it, Seth?" his father smiled. Looking at his parents' smiles, despite not really wanting to go to town, made him smile a little as well.

"...Okay!"

* * *

 

The boy's name is Seth Moonlit, son of Adam Moonlit and Eve Zvezda, and he is 4 years old.

His mother, Eve, possesses the blood of the stars in her, and her magical prowess knows no comparison. Her lineage proves her radiance, her kindness even more so. To all who know her, they would unanimously sing praises of her power and her beauty, in where even the spirits of the forest of Held would agree with the opinions of mortals. She hums a song as she walks with her son and husband; her long teal hair fashioned in twintails sway about gently as she moves, and there is not a trace of difficulty nor suffering on her joyous face.

His father, Adam, is blue-blooded in the name of the moon; royalty strengthens his divine claim. In contrast to his wife's magic, he makes up for it with his boundless intelligence and the will to compete for the best in everything. He is strong and regal; kind, yet rash. No one could say that he is not incapable, no one could say that he is weak; brilliance is his shield, and strength is his sword. His shoulders ache from hard labour as the man of the family, yet he smiles with his wife, humming along with her in perfect harmony as he walks with his wife and son. If there were any regrets, they were forgotten; if there were any pains, they were disregarded.

And the boy, the boy himself, inherited the blood of both. The blood of the moon and stars flows in his veins, and his face was the splitting image of his father's, as if it was a divine will. His eyes, however, were as gentle as his mother's, and his energy knows no bounds. From two gifted parents comes an exceptionally gifted and precocious child; at his age, he already knows basic spells and common knowledge that would not be taught to his age in schools. He has the abundant cheer of his mother and the piercing scrutiny of his father, and indeed, through and through, he is his parents' son.

There is no questioning the serenity of his parents, and Seth, of all people, knew this very well, but the sheer commotion that Calgaround offered nearly took the boy aback. Serene smiles and hums ceased instantly as Eve excitedly dragged Seth and Adam to a bakery, wanting to buy some bread, and Seth immediately realized that this was not the town that his parents promised to bring him to.

People here did not look like villagers; they dressed nicely and properly. There was far more laughter, and there were very few stalls, maybe one or two. There was more money being tossed around, and when people spoke, news spread like wildfire from one person to another. If they so wished, they could make it seem as if they were passing news and information from one group to another, and it would've been the same either way.

The place was not a town, with its finely dressed people, with its many streetlamps, and with a little more development than an ordinary town.

Eve waltzes into the bakery, and opening the door for her and Seth was Adam himself, who looked very pleased over the prospect of getting more delicious bread to take home. The proprietor greeted the family with a warm "Welcome! Please take your time!" but even that did little to quell Seth's irritable anger.

"...Mom," Seth pointed out crossly, "...this isn't a town."

"I-It isn't," Eve said nervously, laughing a bit over her mistake. "It's the city of Calgaround! I thought that we should treat ourselves to a much nicer place! What do you think?"

The selection of bread instantly shut Seth's mouth; chocolate breads, sugar breads, wholegrain loafs, buttered loafs, cakes of all assortments, cupcakes, even, and his childish anger quelled. He scrutinized the many varieties of breads and pastries, and he nodded in satisfaction, as if his parents deserved his silly forgiveness.

"Very good!" Seth chimed.

"Pick whichever you like," his father encouraged, and Seth ran over to his father, who was holding a tray and food tongs to pass onto him. Bending down to give them to Seth, Adam looked over at the proprietor of the bakery as Seth struggled to take the tray before determinedly going over to the section where they sold chocolate breads. The proprietor was reading a book, behind the wooden counter, and he heard Seth pipe up from the section:

"Can you tell me what bread you want, Mom, Dad? I'll get them for you!" he cheerily volunteered.

"Okay, Seth! Thank you!" Eve giggled, poising herself to not lift a finger at all, as to her son's wishes.

The little boy excitedly used the tongs to take pieces of bread, and both Adam and Eve went over to the counter, hoping to get their news for the week. The proprietor looked up from her book, smiled, and put away the book aside for politeness' sake, but before she could say anything, Adam cut in rather quickly.

"We're sorry," he said, "but are there any news going around this week?"

"This week, this week..." the proprietor thought aloud, then shook her head. "No, nothing from Elphegort. There is a lot of strife in the Magic Kingdom though; riots from Apocalypse, can you believe it? To think that a country with so much technology and knowledge would have so many problems!"

"Life really is much more simple here..." Eve agreed, looking concerned. "It did take us quite a while to get here! We live in Elphegort too, but pretty far away..."

"Oh, where?" the other woman asked, interested. "Aceid? Nemu?"

"Aceid," Adam lied easily enough, and catching onto her husband's facade, Eve followed right after.

"Yes, Aceid!"

"Oh, that is far..." the proprietor agreed, frowning. "Did the three of you really walk all the way here? How old is your son? He looks very small and young..."

"Four!" Eve proudly said. "Four, and he's really, really active!"

Indeed, Seth was active, given how much he looked and skittered around effortlessly. The three adults ended up laughing to themselves as they saw the child darting around as fast as his eyes, seeing new breads that seemed extremely fascinating to him.

"Mom! Dad! They have green tea bread!" he exclaimed. "Do you want that one?"

"Get one for me!" Adam called out.

"Okay!"

"But really, there's nothing much here," the proprietor smiled as she counted some coins on the counter. "Elphegort's a good place to raise children, and the both of you look like really young parents! Your first child?"

At that, Eve stared blankly at the counter. Was Seth her first child? She was meant to have twins, wasn't she? Her twins perished on that awful day, and a child...a child was what she wanted, a child was what she needed, a child was what she had prayed for to any god who listened. She had prayed to the twin gods, to Held, to any deity who would give her a child to replace the gap in her aching heart, and yes.

She had two children, but they are gone.

Seth is her third, and the one who replaced them. Her heart rejoiced upon being blessed with this bright, cheerful and hyperactive child, and she beamed at the proprietor, despite her husband's concerned expression.

"My third! My one and only, my third child-"

* * *

 

You see, dear reader, this is where the idyllic life stopped.

* * *

 

Riots come without warning, but they do come with a reason.

In the middle of gushing over the fact that she does have a child, and about how proud she is over her son, pandemonium erupted from outside the premises. A cacophony of screams pierced through the walls, and immediately, the proprietor let out a piercing shriek of her own. Adam rushed over to Eve, and Eve reached out for her very shocked son, who dropped the tray of bread that he was carrying in a moment of surprise. His eyes saw, but could not comprehend, nor register quickly; the sight of people running away and the sight of people massacring innocents took a while to sink in. His small arm was quickly fetched by his mother's firm grip, and his father rushed out of the bakery to escape the troubled city, if only to escape.

The once peaceful city of Calgaround became a death zone under the hands of Apocalypse, and the ones who knew were the general public, who were running for their lives, and Adam and Eve themselves. Before their very eyes, people got murdered and blood was spilled; the reign of peace was instantly toppled over by figurative horsemen of death, and Seth shook in fear.

He ought to; in any moment, he could very well be taken by another murderer and get killed himself.

How the fires of hatred rained upon the innocents! How the anguish resounds in the streets! In a moment of chance and bravery, Adam held both the hands of his wife and son, trying to brave through the crowds while escaping possible trouble by making his way towards the city opening, until...

...The worst happened.

He tugged, and to his horror, Eve did not move. She did not move, and her hand quickly wrenched free from Seth's hold as she shuddered herself, looking wildly around her as if she was half-possessed. She dropped down to the ground, her breathing erratic, her eyes frantic. The blood, the screams, the woman with the red dress looking at her in confusion brought back nearly everything that she so dearly wanted to forget, and she has a son now, doesn't she? Isn't her son and husband all that she needed?

Then why on earth, at that particular time, did she start shrieking?

"MY CHILDREN!" she yelled, clutching at her face and hair, to the point where her hair ribbons threatened to untie themselves so as to no longer bear the responsibility of holding her hair together. "MY CHILDREN ARE NOWHERE TO BE FOUND!  _MY CHILDREN ARE NOWHERE!_  NOWHERE TO BE FOUND! THEY ARE NOT HERE, MY CHILDREN!"

"Eve!" Adam exclaimed, trying to get the poor woman to her feet from the cobblestone ground. "Eve, we have to go-!"

**_"MY CHILDREN ARE NOWHERE TO BE FOUND!"_ **


	2. the blood of royalty

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Do not trust what has only been seen from one eye.

What kind of tragedy had befallen his shrieking, _terrified_ mother?

Truly, that was what Seth was thinking; there his mother was, with her long, disheveled strands of teal hair lifelessly and helplessly hanging over her face and hands, shuddering as if she was suffering from the harsh winds of winter. The chill has gotten to her and she cannot bear it. Her slender fingers now looked bony and fragile, yet they maddeningly clutched at her hair as if she was about to tear chunks of it off from her scalp. Eyes searched everywhere, from the cobblestone ground to the darkened sky, and drool escaped from her mouth, rolling down her chin as she blubbered and took deep breaths so as to have another bout of yelling.

Eve Moonlit was a sight to behold; indeed, one would call her the quintessential mad woman of her time, but the larger picture was far too painful to paint, much less see.

Immaculate white was stained with madder red. Fresh was the blood of the innocents and the damned; fresh was the blood that stained his mother’s dress and hair. Laughter and pain spilled from her lips; she calls for her missing children again and again and again and again…

“My…..children….. _children,_ where are…..children…..nowhere……nowhere to…..b…e….found…..”

“Mom….” Seth cried out plaintively, his little weak hands holding onto the crook of his mother’s arm with every unimaginable fear seizing his unsure mind. “Mommy, I’m here, I’m not going anywhere, _mommy….!”_

He could’ve sworn that as soon as his mother turned to face him, there was the sickening sound of someone getting shot from far away. The sounds of the many gunshots and the dying screams of the unfortunate fell on deaf ears for Eve as her wide, nearly bloodshot teal eyes stared right at the terrified face of her son; the son whom she loved so much, the son who has her heart and Adam’s face, and shakily, ever so shakily, she reached out a bloodied hand to him.

There are no more lullabies in this land of death, nor is there any milk in the land of blood.

The blood of the common stained the body of the queen of the stars, and she cupped her son’s cheek, smearing it with traces of the blood of the dead and the injured. Eve could feel Seth’s tears in her shaking hand, and she tried ever so hard to breathe. She strained to give a smile, a smile that could hopefully say: _‘Everything is alright. There is nothing to be afraid of, because I will protect you.’_

“Seth….” Eve managed, her voice cracking, “Seth, my obedient child….”

* * *

 

And all at once, hands reached out to _take her young son away from her._

* * *

 

“SETH!”

“AAAAAH!”

“GIVE HIM BACK! MY CHILD, GIVE HIM BACK!”

“YOU, OVER THERE! YOU’RE UNDER ARREST UNDER THE LAWS OF THE MAGIC KINGDOM!”

* * *

  
_“I am a cemetery by the moon unblessed.”_  
-Charles Baudelaire, Paris Spleen

* * *

 

Chapter 2  
the blood of royalty

* * *

 

A child being taken away from his parents.

 A shrieking mother desperate to get him back.

A father who tries to shield his wife and take back his son.

A woman who was arrested by the authorities of another country.

Four things were happening at the very same time, and those four people were far more connected than any bond that fate could ever imagine to throw. Three arms were outstretched to reunite, two were pulled away from where they stood, and in that riot, the gears of fate turned madly, as if thoroughly excited about the development of events. This was how it was supposed to be, this was how it was always meant to be, and had Fate ever wanted peace and prosperity?

It would only grant peace and prosperity to those who successfully defy it, in a manner that it liked.

Seth’s small arm reached out for his mother and father, and the both of them tried to retrieve their son in a similar manner in an instant. The woman who observed the family had her own arms restrained and bound by authorities from a neighboring country, and although it was apparent that any ordinary observer would deem this part of the sufferings of the people, given the situation of Calgaround being pillaged, those four people were by far the most important people in the ever-turning gears.

“Let go! LET ME GO! MOMMY! DADDY!” Seth screamed, his little arms and legs thrashing as the terrorists forcefully pulled him back and away.

“LET GO OF MY SON!” Adam roared, stepping in front of a terrified Eve as he extended his hand. Blue light emanated from his magical energy, an act that he had not practiced for a long time ever since his exile from the Magic Kingdom, and his steely, angered eyes locked onto the tearful eyes of his terrified son. There was his son, scared and horrified beyond belief, and with the loss of his first two children, he was not about to lose his third.

He was not going to let them take his son away from him.

* * *

_Something has been forgotten from here._

* * *

 

“ _Claidheamh-mór!”_  he yelled. It was not an incantation, but an image of the great claymore sword that he had used in his youth. The majestic golden claymore manifested in his outstretched hand, bathed in pure blue light, and swiftly with brute strength, Adam lunged towards the terrorist that held his son.

“DADDY!” Seth shrieked.

“You are **NOT** going to take my son away from me!”

A hostage situation is something that Adam wasn’t familiar with at all, but he had to learn fast as to how to diffuse it if he ever wants his son to come out in one piece. Noise be damned, he set the blade down so as to have it scratch gratingly against the ground, and the masked terrorist used his free arm to summon a spear of his own to counter Adam’s speed.

He did not, however, account for Adam’s strength; the strength that was being amassed from years of chopping wood could not have been expected by an assassin like him.

With a mighty swing, Adam raised the claymore high in the air and brought it down not onto the spear that was conjured, but it was intended to slice the man’s arm off. A clean, heavy cut was meant to induce an amputation far more than a disarm, and had not the terrorist realized that, his arm would’ve been on the ground instead of being attached to his shoulder. Swiftly, and with an appropriate amount of fear, he backed away with Seth in his left arm, looking at Adam with a certain amount of shock on his face.

It was not wise to wait. It was not wise to step back and wait.

It would be so much more advisable to move forward and continue fighting.

There were so many factors to think about in a split second. There was a woodcutter filled with strength, speed and an unhealthy amount of rage at having his son being held hostage. There was a terrorist well known for his constant switching between assassination and brute force that was equal, or even greater than Adam’s own, and the only logical thing to do was to encounter force with force.

“Put that spear away, _Yegor Asayev,”_ Adam spat, “Raisa Netsuma isn’t with you today?”

“What of you, _Adam Moonlit?”_ Yegor grinned, still holding a sobbing Seth. “Years in the woods have done you good! Gained some muscle, haven’t you? Think you can hold off against me?”

“Release my son,” the blue-haired woodcutter hissed, “because I’ve got no time for games.”

“What if _I’ve_ the time for games instead of you?” came the goad. “I want to play. Don’t you?”

Adam took one long step forward, dragging the sword that was in his hand as he prepared for another offensive attack. It was a massive disadvantage – he knew very well that Yegor would overpower him in terms of strength and battle finesse, but at all costs, he had to get his son back. Fighting fair would do no good against a major member of Apocalypse, and the only way to win the fight is if one of them dies.

A death would end it quickly, but there were three lives on the line.

A spear versus a sword – it wouldn’t be very fair. One’s long range and the other was a claymore that Adam has never used for a long, long time. It was a hobby weapon; Adam was never very serious when it came to actual weapons, given how many hours he had put in the office, and all at once, he quietly regretted the fact that he had never actually trained himself for something like this.

He never planned to have a family.

He never planned to marry Eve.

He never planned to lose his two children and have his third held under hostage.

But despite never planning for anything that he has, it’s a good time to start fighting.

Longinus heads for Adam’s heart, but he evades. His eyes were locked onto his enemy’s, who was laughing maniacally in relish over the game that was orchestrated. Would inexperience kill the child? Or would Lady Luck smile upon Alice Merry-Go-Round’s son and deliver him? Weapons clash, feet shifted positions and Seth found himself being flung to and fro in Yegor’s strong armhold.

The question now was, could he help his father?

He could not. His tiny head was getting dizzy, his eyes were swollen from too much crying, and his throat was hoarse from too much screaming. There his father was, clashing blades with this scary man with the most murderous expression that he had ever seen in his life, and all at once, something happened that completely took Seth off-guard.

“…Let’s speed this up, shall we?” Adam grinned.

_Speed._

In the blink of an eye, Seth found himself face to face with his father, who disappeared from his original position to being right in front of Yegor. Yegor himself was clearly taken aback, and before he knew it, the sound of his spear being fractured reached their ears. Seth’s breath hitched, and Adam swiftly elbowed the side of Yegor’s arm with as much force as he could.

“!”

“DADDY!”

“I’ve got you!”

With that, Seth took his father’s hand and clung onto his arm for dear life, and he found himself swung within his father’s hold again. He half-expected to be reunited with his mother, who was helplessly looking at the fight unfold, but Adam kept him while advancing forward.

Yegor, on the other hand, was trying not to fall.

“You’re dying here today, Asayev!” Adam yelled, and Seth buried his face in his father’s chest, praying to any god out there for the fight to end, and for them to go home.

“….Really now?”

Really now, indeed.

Would it be so _easy_ for an inexperienced woodcutter to be able to fall someone like Yegor?

“I TOLD YOU THAT I’M PLAYING A **GAME,** ADAM MOONLIT!” roared Yegor, and with augmented magic, the crack on his spear disappeared, making it as good as new, if not even more strengthened. If Adam had speed, he had brute strength, and upon raising his augmented spear in the air, Adam’s eyes widened as he protectively used both of his arms to hold both the sword and his son. He couldn’t attack – he absolutely could not, and instead of advancing, he found himself backing away quickly to the point where he was right in front of his shaking wife again.

It was a _mistake._

It was a mistake because it gave Yegor the exact amount of time, and the exact amount of space, to attempt to _impale_ him.

The chance was taken, and right in front of Adam’s eyes, the spear headed for him, sharp and merciless in its nature, and wielded by a top gun in the Apocalypse, there was no way that he could survive being impaled. There was absolutely no way to escape, nor survive a straight and sure spear headed directly for the heart, and all at once, time seemed to stop.

Was he going to die like this?

Was he going to die with his son in his arms and with his wife worse for wear?

 _“Sciath!”_ Adam hastily said, and a blue barrier came up between him and Yegor’s spear. Backing away did not come without consequences, and most unfortunately, he fell, landing on his wife’s lap and on the ground, while still holding his son as tightly as he could. “Agh!”

“Adam!” Eve exclaimed, frantically trying to keep him – his head, actually, close to her as she cradled him with her shaking hands. “Adam, oh god, Adam….!”

“Dad!” Seth yelled. “Mom-!”

* * *

 

A sharp pain, and the world went black.

* * *

 

“….this the child?”

“Yes, Professor. He…….in the Apocalypse…..the raids have taken the lives of……arrested Salmhofer, Meta…..”

“….of Netsuma, Raisa…..?”

“Dead.”

_Dead._

The world blurs out the words, but the last word stirred his consciousness.

Was that the word when someone is devoid of life? Was that the word that he had constantly feared to hear of his parents in such a terrible time? If he wakes, will he hear the sentence: _‘Adam and Eve Moonlit are both pronounced dead,’_ and despair for the rest of his life?

Seth Moonlit dared not open his eyes.

A warm hand is placed on his cold forehead, and it sweeps away the stray strands of his bangs. The room is cold, and he is alone. He must’ve been rendered unconscious, and his parents are not in this place – he cannot sense them. There are only two strange voices, and he pretended to be asleep.

It’s a game. It’s a game of pretend.

Pretend long enough, and people will believe you. Cry wolf too many times, however, and they won’t. Stay still long enough and maybe they’ll think you’re dead. The rise and fall of a chest negates every possibility of a death though; Seth almost wondered whether he was going to be like that unfortunate princess who had her finger pricked on a spindle. A _stupid_ princess, he had deemed her. Was the Sleeping Beauty so stupid as to not know that a spindle is dangerous, and that touching it was akin to touching the fires of a stove?

But curiosity killed the cat, and it almost killed the princess, had it not been for the other fairy.

His mother told him stories of not only the princess who slept in the tower, protected by the thorns of roses, but also of the woman who was warned to never open a box that contained all the evils in the world. Curiosity is bad, the stories teach. Never be too curious. Obey what has been set out for you.

The child of the moon and stars could not understand.

 _‘Why not?’_ he had asked his mother. _‘Why didn’t she listen? Why didn’t Pandora not open it?’_

 _‘No one told her what was inside,’_ his mother responded. _‘If they told her, maybe she wouldn’t!’_

With curiosity comes knowledge.

With ignorance comes what?

This was another story to tell; a boy wakes up in a different place, tucked snugly in a soft bed with the softest of pillows and the warmest of blankets, but he does not open his eyes. There are two people talking about two other people, and to find out who they are, he must stir awake and let them know that he has awoken. The curiosity burns within the boy – are these people his friends, or his enemies? Are these strangers alright to be trusted, or should he carry on pretending? Where are his parents? Are they alright?

Where is home?

How will he ever get home?

If he asks, will they take him home, or will they keep him? Must he escape?

The princess who sleeps had none of those questions racing in her head upon seeing the spindle set by the witch, but definitely, Pandora must’ve had them. If she opens the box, what will come out? What is inside the box? Why did they tell her not to? Why was she so curious? She must know.

She must know.

And Seth must know too.

Without curiosity, there would not be knowledge.

He slowly opened his teal colored eyes, the eyes that he had inherited from his mother, and at once, a blinding white light greets him. The warm hand remained on his forehead, and he shifts his head ever so slightly to see who it was that regarded him so. Strands of blue hair splayed about on the white pillow, and he took in the features of the man who sat by his bedside.

Cold, calculative brown eyes, concealed behind transparent glasses. Short brown hair that looked soft, but not as soft as the outfit that he wore. Was it winter? It seemed like a winter coat, and it was as white as his sheets, and at once, there was something that caught Seth aback – the youthfulness of the man.

His face reflected none of his father’s weariness.

It seemed almost…..unnatural.

“I – oh, you’re awake already, aren’t you, young one?” the man spoke, and Seth slowly rubbed his eye. The man smiled at him warmly, and he tried to smile back, still not knowing whether he was a friend or a foe. What a kind stranger, indeed, but will his parents scold him for being nice to a stranger once he gets back home…

…or _if_ he gets back home?

“….Where am I?” Seth asked.

“You’re safe,” the brown-haired man said, smiling continuously. “You were almost kidnapped by the terrorists in the riot, and we managed to save you. Your parents are okay, Seth.”

Teal eyes blinked in surprise.

“How….do you know my name, mister?” came the uncertain croak, as he sat up on the bed. His hands were clasped close to him, and the man merely laughed good-naturedly, as if he told the young boy a very funny joke that he could not understand.

“I’m a good friend of your parents,” the mister said. “When you were born, you were named after me.”

“So….your name is….!” Seth gasped in wonder. “Your name is Seth too?”

“Seth Twiright, a professor in the Magic Kingdom, Levianta, which you are in right now, my boy,” Professor Twiright kindly introduced himself, proceeding to ruffle the boy’s blue hair. “It’s a pleasure to finally meet you, Seth. You’ve grown – how old are you now?”

“Four!” Seth proudly announced. “Four and a half!”

“Four years old!” Professor Twiright nodded in approval, laughing. “Now, Seth, I know that you have a lot of questions, but I want to tell you that I’ll make sure that you get back home safe and sound.”

“Mom and Dad….” Seth murmured, every bit of uncertainty lacing his tiny voice. “Are they really okay? E-Especially Mom…..s-she was shaking, a-and Dad was…..fighting with….”

Professor Twiright gave Seth a serene smile.

“They’re fine. Can you stand, Seth? Or are you hungry?”

Cheekily, Seth retorted, “Mom and Dad said to never get into a stranger’s car, or eat food given by strangers, hehe!”

“They taught you well then!” Professor Twiright laughed again. “What about this? If you’re hungry, there’s a kitchen if you look hard enough, and I think there’s some cereal in there. Can you fix a bowl for yourself like the big boy you are?”

“Yes I can!” Seth proudly chimed, leaping off from the bed as he looked around for his boots. When he finally found them, he wore them and pattered about, satisfied with the sounds that were made whenever the heels clicked onto the tiles. “Um….where’s the kitchen, Professor Twilight?”

“Twiright,” the professor corrected.

“Twiright?”

“From this hall, turn right, and then go all the way straight. Count seven doors down, and then go to the eighth door to the left. Can you do that?”

“W-Wait, Professor,” the other man interrupted, “that’s not the kitch-“

“Yes! I’ll be back soon! Thank you!” the blue-haired boy piped up, running from the room in excitement.

The cheer of a young, innocent child left with the child himself, and the scientist looked at Seth Twiright in utter disbelief in the cold, whitewashed room. The smile remained on Professor Twiright’s face, and he turned to face the scientist in question with the very same expression, rendering the latter surprised. The machinery continued to hum as the technology remained on, and all the other scientist could do was to manage a few words of mortification.

“….T-That’s not the kitchen you led him to,” he stammered.

“No, of course not,” Professor Twiright coolly said.

“That _wasn’t_ the kitchen!” the man yelled.

“Well, of course. You said that the first time.”

“What game are you playing at, Twiright?!” the scientist demanded. “The first MA, Eve Zvezda, is his mother! Adam Moonlit is his father! He’s….he’s a prince! Look, I know that what you’re doing is all for the country’s good, but he’s just a boy, and-“

“Whoever said that I was bringing the boy to danger?” the brown-haired scientist hummed. “Of course I know that he is a prince. Of course I know that the boy who slept in this chamber was none other than Prince Seth Moonlit himself.”

“The brother of the deceased twins…..Cain and Abel….”

“If he’s smart enough,” Professor Twiright smiled, “he’ll realize what place is this. Indeed, this room is very comfortable, isn’t it?”

The scientist looked as if he wanted to hurl, and the bespectacled man merely folded his arms with the very same smile on his face. Serenity was on his features, and he nodded slowly.

“Yes, we both know what room, and what place is this.”

“You….!”

“He will live, not to worry,” he smiled, and looked at the angered, terrified man. “I can be certain that he will come out of this alive, and when he does, I will give him back to Adam and Eve.”

“This place is….!”

“Indeed. This place is….”

* * *

 

_“…..the chemical execution chamber of the Royal Leviantan Penitentiary. Comfortable, is it not?”_

* * *

 

**15:08:21**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please root for 'My Life and Hard Times' by MasterofLemmings! :D The chapters will certainly bring a lot of chills down your spine, and you'll definitely love it!


	3. the prince, I

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There is no end to pride and greed.

_“The true joy of a moonlit night is something that we no longer understand. Only the men of old, when there were no lights, could understand the true joy of a moonlit night.”_  
-Yasunari Kawabata, Palm-of-the Hand Stories

* * *

 

Chapter 3  
the prince

* * *

 

Has it ever occurred to you that whenever you try to remember your earliest memory, it would begin around the ages of four or five, and never younger?

Family members will tell you of accounts that don’t seem to add up in supposedly faulty memories. Relatives would embellish, or take away what one initially thought was there. Memory fabrication can be truly a powerful thing, and if one is aware of it, then all the more, memories tend to be doubted. One would remember feeding a duck in the pond at a nearby park, when in reality, they did no such thing.

Four-year-old Seth Moonlit accepted the fact that he was sleeping in that beautiful white room for a few hours, following the riots.

The sounds of his boots resounded as he walked; cheerily hoping for the bowl of cereal that was promised to him, as if it was the holy grail incarnate. Strangers were nice if you gave them a chance, his naïve mind told him. A friend of his parents would definitely be someone to trust. Heed warnings, was the golden rule, yet with youth comes naïveté, and with hopelessness comes disobedience.

How could one be hopeless, when they seem to be full of hope?

Hopelessness creeps in when one is alone.

There are scientists in the building, he noticed, as a few walked past him, minding themselves and each other. They towered above him like monoliths – the adults tended to seem far mightier than they really are to children, and similarly, Seth paid them no heed. A laboratory, a majestic one. He’s only heard about them in the numerous stories that his father had told him about; a royal institute where the best of the best assemble and talk like intellectuals for the good of the country. Meritocracy above all. Results are made in this place, and Seth’s heart swelled with pride.

If he works hard enough, and if he grows old enough, he’ll surely be like one of them. Tall, smart, and even better-looking.

Mom will be so proud. Dad, even.

Every bit of wall was white, and even more so the floor. Transparent windows of wonder revealed everything; nothing was off-limits to anyone, and beautiful flashing screens brought about life in the machines that the screens belonged to. Pretty glass doors that slid (and my, how they slid!) automatically upon a touch or the mere presence of someone, tables where people can lie down on and smart-looking people wearing white gowns and gloves fascinated Seth to no end.

Maybe when he gets home, he’ll tell Mom and Dad all about what he saw, and about that nice Professor Twiright, whom he was named after, and maybe, just maybe, he’ll lie down on the dinner table.

No one smiles in this place, and Seth found that he was the only one smiling. Probably comes with the job, he thought. Serious men are there to do serious work, and if he wanted to be like them, he should probably stop smiling as much as he was at that moment. With the determination of wanting to grow up a little faster than usual, he plastered a well-practiced frown on his face; something that he was very accustomed to when he was usually displeased with a night’s dinner, or with his father whenever he says something silly. It usually made people listen to him, and that must mean that he has some form of authority somewhere.

Precociousness can lead to two things: glory, and death.

To where is he headed for, would be the question. Naïveté carried his feet to unknown territory, where he himself thought that he knows where to go. Kitchen first, because a full stomach is necessary, and then onwards back to the forests of his home. There, his parents will be waiting for him with open arms, and he will run into them, embracing the both of them with a happy smile on his face. Professor Twiright will be with him, and there will be a reunion of old friends and everything will be absolutely

**_fine._ **

No, truly, there was nothing wrong. This was meant to happen, dear readers. This was all meant to happen; there can truly be no way that this could have been avoided. It would be absurd to have a child of four years think that there could possibly be something wrong, no matter how precocious or smart he is. A foreign place is a playground of adventure to him, and he willingly explores without fear, due to the empowerment of a so-called friend.

He thought his presence was insignificant.

The people who passed him by thought otherwise, from the confused expressions on their faces.

Had the boy known that this was not as simple as it seemed, he would have ran from the room. If one were to ask: _‘Is this necessary? Could this be avoided?’_ the answers would have been _‘yes,’_ and _‘no.’_

For when Seth Moonlit arrived where he was meant to go to, he found not a doorknob to place his small hand on, but a towering, menacing door that clearly read: **PENITENTIARY.**

Penitentiary.

He didn’t know that word.

He knew many words for kitchen; cookhouse, cookroom, scullery, canteen, kitchenette, galley, but never the word penitentiary. His mind gave him the impression of a very unassuming and dull door that clearly said the word **KITCHEN** on a sign, and yet, this was where he stood. He looked left and right in utter confusion; was he right? He was sure that he was right – he didn’t miss out any directions, and mind you, he was very good at directions.

This ought to be the place then, and if it is, this is an incredibly large kitchen.

Glassy doors towered over the small boy, leading to yet another door that was also of the same texture, which also led to another that was the same as what came previously, and it seemed as though it was a place of no end. Tables that were transparent and glassy were placed at each side behind the doors of the penitentiary, and his eyes could see a small rectangular-like device right beside the doors. Probably, he’d need to jump, or climb a chair to touch it, to see how it worked even. The halls and rooms were as white as everything else – what shocked and scared Seth, however, was not the fact that everything was as pristine and as white as snow (mind you, that was what he loved about the place, instead of hated), but the fact that none of the people he wanted to be were around the same area as him.

Amidst the lights, amidst the cold air that smelled hygienic, yet artificial, he found that no one was there at all.

For short, he was dreadfully, terrifyingly alone.

Compared to the place that he was in, he was the epitome of filth – his unkempt blue hair was attributed to his earlier struggles and some time spent in bed, his collared shirt and suspenders smelled like dirt, and even his face was a little sticky, but as mentioned, children don’t particularly mind anything about themselves unless they were being scolded for being filthy. **PENITENTIARY,** the place was. **PENITENTIARY,** was the word that showed up in front of his face, with the big translucent letters. **PENITENTIARY. PENITENTIARY.**

Seth stared at the word as if it was the only word that mattered, the only word that his entire being was made of, and he shuddered.

He must’ve taken a wrong turn. He must have, for there’s no other way around it. There can’t be any way that he had went somewhere right, because this was definitely, surely, not the place that he was looking for. This was no kitchen, but this place…

“…..Where…..Where am I?” he meekly asked himself, or to anyone who could possibly be there.

No one was with him.

Fear is not a welcome friend, yet it arrives as if it has knocked down one’s door without regard. Fear is something that a child would feel whenever their parents leave them alone for the first time in a kindergarten, and all of a sudden, they get the impression that their parents would never want to return back for them again. Abandonment is most feared, and the child becomes afraid, and with it comes reassurance, if the child is oh-so-fortunate enough. It seizes every man’s heart, no matter how old or young, and in that similar manner, it has seized Seth Moonlit’s heart in a split second.

Here he was, standing in front of the glass doors of the penitentiary ( **PENITENTIARY, PENITENTIARY** ), and he thought of a million things at once. _Go back to whence you came. Stay there. Shout for help. Cry your hardest._

_Faint._

_Think that this is all a bad dream._

He was alone, and he slowly learned it in horrified shock. He was alone, and neither his mother nor father are there. There are no fairies or spirits to help him; it definitely wasn’t like the times where he had to run from wild rabbits and received help from a robin and a chipmunk in Held’s Forest. The ground that he stood on was definitely not the soft, fertile soil of the forest, the soil that gives life to vegetation that harms and heals, that destroys and nourishes – he stood on white, cold, hard tiles, and he has never felt so alone in his entire life.

**PENITENTIARY.**

Penitent.

_Penance._

Seth found the root word, and his lower lip shook.

He wanted his father. He wanted his mother. He wanted to be home. He wanted to go back to Professor Twiright and go home immediately, not to take a wrong turn and end up here instead of the kitchen to get a snack. This was stupid. This was absolutely foolish. It was stupid.

He wanted out. He wanted to go home.

“….something about Moonlit. I don’t really know what’s going on, but wasn’t he in charge of the place before?”

“I think so. If I recall, if he was here….that madwoman stuck on death row right there would’ve been handled immediately…..”

Immediately, Seth turned around to see who it was. Two men were speaking to each other, passing by the area as if it was a happy coincidence, and he was about to go up to them with the intention to ask the many questions that were dancing and running about madly in his head.

“Mister! Mister!” he jumped. “Mister, are you talking about dad?”

The scientists looked at each other in confusion. “Dad?”

“Moonlit!” Seth insisted. “My name is Seth Moonlit!”

* * *

 

**_“…Moonlit?”_ **

* * *

 

“I beg…..I beg….I _beg_ you, P-Professor Twiright……!” came Eve’s cries as she helplessly sobbed before the intangible projection. “I beg of you, my……my…..!”

Fallen queen, desolate daughter and grieving mother fell on her knees; her loves were torn out from her chest in quick succession, and she pleaded with the scientist on the other line as if he was God himself. Gone was her son, and she would give the world to gain him back. Injured was her husband, and she would follow him should he descend to the grave early.

Grief is great, common as it is. Her nails dug into the skin of her face – Seth Twiright could see from the clearest of screen that she wanted, wanted, and **wanted.** Needed, needed, and **_needed._** There could be no end to her grief otherwise, and she begged, _pleaded_ him, to help her find her son.

“I beg….I beg of you….” she croaked brokenly.

His face reflected every bit of the grief that she embodied. “Your Majesty…..”

“My son…..I….I have a _son_ now!” Eve exclaimed as she wielded her words as if they were weapons, or rather, as if she was forcing Professor Twiright to take them as unwelcome gifts. “A child! A beautiful boy…..h-he’s four now, Professor! He’s _four!”_

“Your Majesty – _Eve,_ I have him with me, and by the time the work day ends, I’ll send him to you and Adam immediately,” Professor Twiright said as levelly as he could. “Is that alright?” he tried, as he spoke with great caution – surely, a little bit of tact could go a long way.

Nails stopped scratching, stopped picking against a harmless countenance.

“…..He’s…..Seth’s with you? Professor, he’s with you?!” she gasped. “He’s alright, right? He’s okay? Did he eat? Is he hurt? Where is he hurt? When will-“

The gentlest of smiles came upon his face. “He is safe. Looks every bit like his father, but his eyes are yours. The blood of the Zvezdas and the former queen’s flow in him.”

“Yes……” the woman said, finding that she could somehow smile at that. “Yes, he is…..he is ours….Our son, Professor Twiright – he is ours, and he is ours alone…..Not the state’s, not the gods’…..”

What had been forgotten was _this_ – the boy sincerely thought that he remembered his father as a hero; a man full of strength and power, able to beat any mountain of a man, or an army of ten thousand, yet it clearly was not the true account of things as evidenced by the sight of Adam Moonlit’s unconscious form on the wooden bed in the quaint forest cottage. Lifeless strands of blue hair splayed about on the clean pillow, eyes were shut tight and hands were limp – one could almost mistake for him being dead.

Both worried wife and former colleague looked upon him. All it took was one mighty swing of Asayev’s weapon, and Adam was rendered badly harmed and unconscious.

And the son?

The son was rescued from the carnage, yet was not returned to his worse for wear mother. It was clearly not possible for it to be done; the officers of the Magic Kingdom had pulled him away from his mother, who was screaming hysterically for him as if he was the air that was needed by her to breathe, and Seth himself could not respond, as he had fainted due to shock.

His father was not strong enough, but he wanted to remember him as the strongest man in the world.

His mother was not steadfast in mind, but he wanted to remember her as steady enough to love.

On that cold night, with the witch of Nemu kneeling on the warm wooden floors of her home, and with the senator sitting comfortably on a chair in an even colder office, the intangible screen that was both magic and science served as the only thing that somehow mattered in such a quiet and trying time. In Elphegort, it was surely magic – in the Magic Kingdom, it was technology, and with two different people in two different worlds, it truly was hard to find any sort of agreement or compromise.

A past had been shared, and through great pains, they were where they were to that day.

A son. Her secret.

Ambitions. His goals.

“…..It is a great risk to tell me of your son,” Professor Twiright gravely remarked. “The miscarriage-“

“The miscarriage is……painful to remember,” Eve managed, “but Seth is here now.”

“Hide him,” he quietly said. It was not a request – it was an order, and they both knew it. “Hide him, where no eyes can see him. Upon giving him back to you, you must hide him and never show him again.”

At that, Eve looked defensive, even going so far as to ball her fists on her lap. “He is a prince.”

“He is.”

“He has the right to be on that throne!” Eve insisted.

“So he does,” Professor Twiright acknowledged.

“Then why,” Eve Moonlit asked heatedly, “why on earth do you want him hidden from the world? Is it because he is an only child? If he didn’t have a twin, he’s not eligible by blood to take over the throne of the great prophet? He has my blood and Adam’s and we both have a strong claim to-“

Gentle tones quickly changed to cold ones.

“You are a _failure,”_ said he.

Her blood ran still.

“You are a failure, and Adam could not stay after endorsing you. We have funded much on you, with the hopes that you will bring Prince Cain and Princess Abel about, and yet, it had turned into a failure. What do you think? We know that Seth has every claim to the throne, but do you think that the prophecy of the great prophet will be simply disregarded,” came his cutting words, “over a single child?”

Eve found that she was rendered completely speechless at that, and she looked at him with stunned, horrified eyes.

And yet, he continued.

“In blood, in name, he is a prince, but he will never reach the throne, much less touch it,” Professor Twiright sternly said. “The country needs the gods.”

Indeed, it was hard to swallow the fact that always and forever, the twin gods who watched over the world, according to doctrine, were far more important than her bundle of joy, and Eve had to hear those words straight from Twiright’s merciless mouth. Every claim, every right, would be denied to her son, who was clearly destined for great things and even grander things in life, only to be shut down in favour of twins which could not even come out alive in the world. Who else, other than she, could birth the twins? Why had she failed?

It was _not_ her fault.

Surely, it **wasn’t.**

No one, no other woman, no other _witch,_ could ever replace her, and she was determined to hold onto that fact for as long as she lived. No other witch can be as superior as a Zvezda born, and she glared hard at Twiright’s cold, soulless eyes.

“I,” Eve declared, “am the sole daughter of the Zvezda clan in Nemu, and you and Adam both know this. I am the strongest witch in all the country, and I dare boast that I am the strongest witch in the entire world. If you want the gods to be born, then they shall only come from my womb and my womb only, and if I demand for Seth to ascend the throne, I will have it,” she said. “I demand for another chance at the project, and I will not have my son’s rights be stripped from him! Return him to me, and we will go to the Magic Kingdom at once-“

What came next figuratively slapped her in the face.

 _“Know your place,”_ Twiright disdainfully said. “A fresh generation will come, and another will replace you. Another will strike your old arts and clash with them, and we will find her. For the sake of the country, and not for the sake of your selfish needs, we will place the twins first.”

Tension filled the air, and neither of them threatened to break it. One glared at the other with intensity and determination, and the other merely looked at her as if she was fairly insignificant compared to the other potential women who may become the next queen. Twiright stood up, gathered his things and gave Eve Moonlit what he thought would be his penultimate look.

“You will have your son by tonight-“

And this was far too early of a statement to say. He meant to send Seth Moonlit to his angered mother and his unconscious father that night. He meant to keep him in the penitentiary to shield him from the prying eyes of the Institute. He meant to have the boy roam around and come back, hence his confidence in him returning alive.

For as soon as he said those words, a colleague ran in, joy plastered all over his face. He was smiling, beaming even, and he laughed out loud as he spread the good news to his superior.

“Professor!” the scientist said. “Great news! The heir has returned! The heir to the throne has returned!”

* * *

 

_The last thing Twiright saw that day was the satisfied smirk of Eve Moonlit, and she waved the cloud that showed his shocked face away._

* * *

**20:31:17**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I-I'll upload this to FF.net later ^^;
> 
> Latest promo for the day would be for Solitude by pixelized! Please support this wonderful ongoing fanfiction and show it lots of love!
> 
> I originally wanted this chapter to be so much longer, but I think it'll have to be cut in two or three parts! It is rather short, for a chapter entitled 'the prince,' so I think this will be part 1! Thank you so much for following the development of 'The Third Son,' and I'll crosspost this on tumblr as well!

**Author's Note:**

> Hi! I've just received my AO3 invite today, and I will be crossposting my current work: The Third Son here, with a few revisions! Please know that this is the preferred version, and that I will slowly be adding chapters here when I have time! ^.^/ In the time being, here is the official tumblr blog for the fic!:
> 
> http://thethirdsonfic.tumblr.com
> 
> Please also follow Katadenza's 'Adam's Amazing Text Adventure,' and the fic's tumblr at:
> 
> http://adams-amazing-text-adventure.tumblr.com
> 
> Thank you so much, and I will slowly work on this!


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